Kylo's breath stutters, his whole body saturated with the sensation of being taken in. The throbbing heat of Ronan's mouth, his throat, Rey's possessive hunger coiling tight— between them, they have him captive in a way nothing else could.

Because he doesn't want to be freed.

The awareness that he should want to lingers as the racing beat of his heart, trembling resistance as Rey digs in her teeth. Isn't it better, when he lets her have him? And it is. He can't deny it. It is. He was made for her, she for him, and if he would just...

"Ronan," he gasps, reaching blindly for his anchor. His hands scrabble and grasp, his thoughts, his will— Ronan knows what he is when he is not a part of her, and the more he allows himself to be submerged, the tighter a hold he needs on that tether.